Human
by JackieOh
Summary: Nikita Bronte has spent her whole life searching for answers. She doesn't know what she is, but it certainly isn't human. After coming across a note in her parents' old storage locker Nikita follows the trail to Beacon Hills. There she becomes entangled in the town's supernatural happenings, all the while trying to find herself. Stiles/OC, AUish, Season 3 on
1. Prologue

**Title**: Human

**Pairing**: Stiles/OC

**World**: AUish

**Full Summary**: Nikita Bronte has spent her whole life searching for answers. She doesn't know what she is, but it certainly isn't human. After coming across a note in her parents' old storage locker Nikita follows the trail to Beacon Hills. There she become entangled in the town's supernatural happenings, all the while trying to find herself.

**Author's Note**: Keep in mind this fic is relatively AU. You can find trailers for Human on my tumblr (link is on my profile) as well as sneak peeks. Please be sure to leave a review and tell me what you think! Thanks for reading!

* * *

"Here the repellent harpies make their nests,

Who drove the Trojans from the Strophades

With dire announcements of the coming woe.

They have broad wings, a human neck and face,

Clawed feet and swollen, feathered bellies; they caw

Their lamentations in the eerie trees."

-Dante, Inferno

* * *

**Prologue**

_Like A Magnet_

It had been a painful drive to NorCal. Route 5 was long and treacherous, filled with screeching car horns and reckless drivers. Nikita had not slept in eighteen hours now, and the only time she stopped was an emergency- drinking a Big Gulp proved to be a very poor choice- which had been hours ago. The only thing keeping her upright were the _5 Hour Energy_s she chugged several miles back, and their effect was fading with each passing moment.

The music blasting from her car's stereo was designed to keep her alert but its fast beat only seemed to lull her to sleep. Nikita knew she should pull over, try to rest for a few hours, but there was a forest on either side of the road she was on and her sleep deprivation was so hindering she feared pulling over would result in some sort of crash.

As it turns out, _not_ turning over would result in some sort of crash anyway. But at least she had tried.

The oncoming Jeep's blaring horn couldn't be heard over Nikita's outrageously loud music, but its flashing brights got her attention. And it was only then did she realize she had swerved into the wrong lane.

With a panicked screech Nikita jerked her wheel to the right, sending her flying over the gravel and directly into a city sign. The impact wasn't hard enough to deploy her airbags- thank god- but her seat belt dug painfully into the left side of her exposed neck.

Nikita blinked deliriously at the dented hood of her car before pulling the key out of its ignition. Her radio silenced and, for a moment, the only sound in the world was her frantic breathing. But then three sharp raps sounded at the driver's side window and suddenly the world was too loud, too heavy, too _tiring_.

With trembling limbs Nikita unbuckled her seat belt and exited her- now dented- prized possession. From there she was immediately assaulted by a frantic and distinctly male voice.

"Oh my god. Are you okay? You're shaking. Oh my god. Did you get hurt or something? Was there another deer in the road?"

What with it being one o'clock in the morning on what Nikita was sure to be a school night, she did not expect the owner of the Jeep she'd nearly totaled to be a teenage boy.

"No," Nikita said. The boy just looked at her strangely as his hands hovered just beside shoulders as if he was sure she would fall. "No there wasn't a deer I just…"

There was something about her tone that softened his gaze. Nikita sounded terrified and wavering, apologetic beyond belief. And despite the fact she'd nearly ended both of their lives Stiles couldn't help but forgive her.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

Nikita rubbed her neck at the question but shook her head in response. "No," she said. The pain was already leaving her, there was no use in complaining. If it ended up bruising the mark would be gone by morning anyway. "Are you?"

"No," replied the boy, and for a beat they stood in silence.

"Could you- do you know where Alan Deaton's veterinary clinic is?"

Stiles was momentarily stunned by the sudden question. "I don't think anyone'll be there what with it being so late-"

"Listen, I don't mean to sound rude but do you know the way or not?" Nikita interrupted, all agitation.

"Yeah but... how do you know Deaton?"

She couldn't help but think that sounded like an accusation. "He was a friend of my parents," she said. Nikita wondered why her relation to Alan Deaton was such a pressing matter but couldn't bring herself to ask. She'd nearly _killed_ this boy for Christ's sake.

Stiles didn't miss her use of past-tense, and while this girl definitely piqued suspicion he couldn't bring himself to question her. Not now while she was shaking and had large purple bags under her eyes.

So he jerked a thumb over his shoulder and said: "It's just up the service road. I could lead you there if you want, or you could leave your truck and I'd give you a ride, or-"

"No thanks," Nikita interrupted with a small grin. "But thank you for offering. Obviously you're going the other way, anyway what with the fact we almost had a… well, head-on collision."

She forced a laugh and so did he, and it was obvious their conversation was over.

"Right," Stiles nodded. "Okay." It wasn't until he was in his bed did he realize he hadn't gotten the girl's name, nor she his.

* * *

Nikita dreamt she was flying. Auburn feathered wings sprouted from her shoulder blades proudly, large and muscular. She soared high above the Seattle skyline and looked down to people shaped like ants. Her laughter was carried by the howling wind as she dipped and spun.

Reaching out her hands Nikita's fingers disappeared beneath clouds which had at first been white but turned the color of charcoal at her touch.

Her laughter abruptly stopped. In its place was screeching- no, _cawing_- and she was horrified that such a sound could come from her mouth.

The wind became violent. She was tossed around this way and that- flipped and spun until her limbs flew out in all different directions. Another _caw_ was released. Nikita's upper back burned with unimaginable pain as two cracks sounded from behind her ears. Her wings had been broken.

And then, just like that, she was awake. Upright and panting so fast she was on the verge of hyperventilating. The rising sun shone brightly in Nikita's eyes and she cringed away from its rays. The jeans she slept in felt tight and uncomfortable, and her loose fitting t-shirt was so twisted it felt like a vice-grip on her neck. If there ever came another time where she had to sleep in her truck it would be in its cab- frigid weather be damned. At least she would have some leg room.

"Excuse me?"

Nikita barely repressed her squawk of surprise at the sound of a man's muffled voice. Turning quickly in the truck's cramped space was a difficult task- she accidentally elbowed its horn on the way around- but her struggle turned out to be worth it. Standing just outside her driver's side door was a professionally dressed black man sporting a bald head, confused expression, and well-groomed goatee.

After pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of the duffle bag she had used as a pillow, Nikita slapped it onto the window just below the man's nose. It read:

IF YOU EVER NEED HELP

(888) 888-8888

-ALAN DEATON


	2. Chapter 1

**Title**: Human

**Pairing**: Stiles/OC

**World**: AUish

**Full Summary**: Nikita Bronte has spent her whole life searching for answers. She doesn't know what she is, but it certainly isn't human. After coming across a note in her parents' old storage locker Nikita follows the trail to Beacon Hills. There she becomes entangled in the town's supernatural happenings, all the while trying to find herself. S3 AU

**Author's Note**:Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, followed, and added this story to favorites! I hope you all continue to enjoy the story and please be sure to continue telling me what you think. You can find sneak peeks and trailers on my tumblr (link on my profile). Please feel free to leave me any suggestions or ask questions in the ask box on there. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Dove collides into window, leaving a white dandery imprint of its body,

Wings flecked out, etched into crucifixion- a crime scene outline to say he was here.

Take this, the dust of me, remember the way my body was round and would not move through glass."

-Franny Choi, Notes on the Existence of Ghosts

* * *

**Chapter One**

_Human Nature_

Deaton was quick to invite her inside. He led her through the clinic's foyer and into the examination room while asking, "Who gave you that piece of paper? The number on it is over ten years old."

Nikita slumped against a brick face wall and wiped the sleep out of her eyes. "Anastasia and Gavin Bronte," she said. When it became apparent Deaton recognized their names the girl continued, "My parents. Or their storage locker at least."

"Nikita," Deaton guessed, sounding awed at the idea.

Her brow furrowed at the sound of her name. She hadn't introduced herself which lead Nikita to question "Have we met before?" She wondered if her parents had brought the man around when she was too young to remember.

"No," Deaton grinned with a shake of his head. "Not formally, anyway. The last time I saw you- well, you were just a bump in your mother's stomach." He turned to a coffee maker on the counter and filled its pot with water. Nikita nearly salivated at the prospect of caffeine. "You look just like her, you know. She was blonde of course but-"

"My mother was blonde?" the teenager interrupted, sounding floored. "I-I only knew her with black hair." That is to say: the only picture of her mother was with black hair.

Deaton frowned at this and said, "She must have dyed it."

"You make it sound like that's a bad thing," Nikita skeptically replied as she reached for the mug of coffee the veterinarian offered.

Deaton cleared his throat and took a sip of his drink before telling her: "The last time I saw your parents they were in hiding. People were after your mother for what she was. What I expect you are, too."

She felt dizzy at this revelation. Her hands shook so badly coffee spilled over the mug's edges and onto her fingers. It burned red hot but the superficial wounds had already healed by the time their pain registered.

"And that is?" Nikita asked.

When Deaton's gaze dropped to the floor her stomach filled with dread. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know. I was called away before we had the chance to look. By the time I went back to New Orleans your parents were long gone."

"New Orleans?" Nikita frowned. Should she head down to Louisiana and look around? No, if Deaton couldn't follow their trail sixteen years ago there was no way she'd be able to _now_.

"It's something like a capitol," the vet answered, "for people like me."

Nikita's left brow rose in questioning. "And you are…?"

Deaton smirked, took a sip of his coffee, replied: "A scholar of sorts."

She narrowed her eyes and asked, only half-playing, "Are you a witch?"

"If I was," Deaton smiled, "I'd probably prefer the term warlock."

He had a knack for dodging questions, she noticed. And if this man had been anyone other than who he was- a person who tried to help her parents- then she wouldn't have trusted him. Maybe it was unwise of her, it probably _was_, but this was the closest Nikita had ever come to answers. She couldn't just let it slip through her fingers.

And so she took a sip of her coffee and asked: "If I stick around, would you help me find out what I am?"

Deaton extended a hand and gave her a reassuring grin. "I'd be happy to." And when they shook on it, Nikita couldn't help but feel as if she had just made a deal with the devil.

* * *

"…I swear my life flashed before my eyes. And you know what I realized?"

Scott heaved a theatric sigh and asked, "That you lead a very shitty life?"

"Oh ha-ha, very funny. But no. What I realized is if that insanely hot girl had _actually_ killed me last night I was supremely glad I would not have died with a meaningless tattoo on my arm."

Stiles had been anti tattoo from the get-go. It stemmed from his aichmophobia (fear of needles) and- is there a word for the fear of pain?- agliophobia. Scott could respect Stiles' position but, as the morning raged on, it became apparent his friend couldn't do the same.

"Dude," Scott frowned, "shut up. I'm going to Derek's after school and he's going to help me and that's it. Okay? Okay."

Stiles released a long whistle as his brow rose in surprise. "Well it looks like _someone_'s a sour-wolf today. What's the matter? Feeling a little on edge because Allison's in this class?"

"Allison's in this class?" Scott echoed, sounding marginally panicked. "How do _you_ know that?"

"Lydia told me." He said this as if it was obvious. "And speaking of Lydia…"

The girls walked in side by side. They were giggling over something or another, Scott overheard the words _fresh meat_ being said, but when Allison's gaze met Scott's her laughter died out.

Scott twiddled his thumbs nervously when they realized the only available seat was in front of him. He couldn't help but think it was just like the time they met, and from the way Allison's heart skipped she had a similar train of thought.

Hedging toward him carefully she asked: "Is anyone…?"

"No!" Scott exclaimed. "No, no, no. It's all you- all yours. It's totally vacant."

Allison chuckled at his fumbling and took the seat with a nod. Scott glanced over to Stiles for moral support and was met with a sarcastic thumbs-up. Before the teen wolf had the chance to humiliate himself further, his cell phone chimed.

In fact _everyone's_ cell phones chimed, or buzzed, or whatever they were set to do.

"The offing was barred by a black band of clouds and the tranquil waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber under an overcast sky seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness." The entire class looked up to see an attractive young woman standing before the previously vacant desk at the front of the room. "This is the last line to the first book we are going to read. It is also the last text you will receive in this class. Phones off, everyone."

While it was creepy their English teacher had their cellphone numbers, it was also a very cool way to introduce herself to the class.

…

When Deaton informed Nikita there were no motels or bed-and-breakfasts nearby she'd been crushed. After resigning herself to spending an unknown amount of time living out of her car he then invited her to stay with him. On account of Deaton being a man she didn't know Nikita declined, which led him to make a counteroffer. Nikita could sleep on the cot he keeps in the clinic's storage room and shower at his house- "While I'm out if you'd feel more comfortable"- so long as she cleaned after herself. If she wanted, Deaton had offered, Nikita could work a few days a week for some pocket money. Being as it was a better deal than she would get anywhere else Nikita didn't think twice about accepting.

She was on her way back from Deaton's house, freshly showered and damp haired, when they caught her eye. An enormous flock of crows soared high overhead, and their black feathers contrasted against the blue Californian sky like nothing she'd ever seen. Their _caw_s could be heard over her truck's radio and through its windows.

At the sight of them, something inexplicable inside of Nikita snapped. She needed to follow them. She _needed_ to. And so with a groan of her vehicle's engine she sped up and trailed after them, all the while keeping her eyes trained on the sky.

When she finally pulled over it was because the crows had stopped moving forward. Instead they circled what appeared to be a high school. Hopping down from her truck, Nikita's hair whipped around her face like wildfire. For the first time in her life she knew this howling wind wasn't her doing. There was something else at work here, she thought. But while these gusts of wind were similar to what she could create in times of distress Nikita didn't think the cause of this was anything like her, and if they were… well, they had much more control.

When the first crow flew into the building her stomach lurched. "No," she whispered. Calling up to the crows she ordered, "No!" If there was such thing as an opportune time to use her bird-controlling abilities, it was now.

But they did not listen. The wind picked up and another crow dropped to its death. The second one was followed by tens, and those by more, until finally the window they had pelted themselves against burst. Nikita could hear the glass shattering from all of the way down there.

And screams. She heard screams too.

The flock continued their assault. They flew into the exposed classroom, flew out, and then back in. Nikita couldn't do anything but watch. Well, she _could_ have but she was frozen in place. It was like a car wreck: you want to look away but you just can't. A morbid fascination she couldn't repress.

When the assault was over every bird was dead. Nikita could feel their fading life-force, and grief hit her like a freight train. She just wanted to know _why_. When a face suddenly appeared at the battered classroom's windowsill all of the air left Nikita's lungs. It was the boy, she realized. The one from last night. She was suddenly reminded of Deaton's earlier words. _Someone was after her mother_. Once was an incident and twice a coincidence. Nikita was hoping there wouldn't be a third time.

In his remains of his English classroom, Stiles was thinking the same thing.

* * *

"I need you to get witchy." Nikita was back on the road but this time she was driving in circles. She had half a mind to go back to Seattle- back to her surrogate family and familiar apartment- where birds didn't fly into windows and she didn't drive into city signs.

"Hello Aunt Kyle," mocked said aunt from over the phone line. "Sorry I kept you up all night with worry. I_ totally _should have called the minute I got to Beacon Hills. Silly me!"

"I just watched a murder commit suicide," Nikita told her. "Excuse me for forgetting my manners."

"You just saw a _what_ commit _what_?" Kyle exclaimed.

"A flock of crows flew into a high school. Repeatedly. Until they died." The teenage girl heaved a burdened sigh and asked, "Why would they _do_ that?"

"You said you needed me to 'get witchy'," Kyle said. "Does that mean you think it's supernatural?"

"Maybe," Nikita frowned. "I-I don't know. There's this boy who keeps popping up and… Kyle, something was controlling the wind and birds."

Her aunt hummed thoughtfully and guessed, "So you think this boy is like you."

"I don't know what I think. The only thing I'm sure of is I'm staying here until I find out."


	3. Chapter 2

**Title**: Human

**Pairing**: Stiles/OC

**World**: AUish

**Full Summary**: Nikita Bronte has spent her whole life searching for answers. She doesn't know what she is, but it certainly isn't human. After coming across a note in her parents' old storage locker Nikita follows the trail to Beacon Hills. There she becomes entangled in the town's supernatural happenings, all the while trying to find herself. S3 AU

**Author's Note**: This chapter was really fun to write! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, followed, and added this story to your favorites. It's what keeps me motivated! Please be sure to let me know what you think of this chapter and check out my tumblr (link is on my profile) for sneak peeks, AUs, and trailers!

Also: HAPPY MOONDAY OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S ALREADY HEREEEEEEEEEE

* * *

"_The phoenix must burn to emerge."_

― _Janet Fitch, White Oleander_

* * *

**Chapter Two**

_Instincts_

"…and when I looked out the window, she was there."

Scott frowned. "Who was there?"

"The girl from last night," Stiles said. "The one who almost hit me with her car. I think she's a part of this."

"You said you've never seen her before, right?" At his friend's reluctant nod Scott continued: "Maybe she was at the school because she's transferring. It could mean nothing."

Stiles fixed the lycaon with a disbelieving look. "Dude," he said, "when has something like that ever meant 'nothing'?"

It was a fair point.

"We don't even know her name," Scott pointed out. "We have no way of finding her. For now we should just focus on the alpha pack-"

"I'm _telling_ you, she's involved!" Stiles exclaimed while slapping the Jeep's steering wheel in frustration. It was then that he was hit with a sudden thought. "And I do have a way of finding her."

It was Scott's turn to be skeptical. "And how's that?"

"Your boss. She asked me for directions to the clinic after the accident."

Stiles' passenger huffed irritably. "Look, we're not going to accuse this girl because of some hunch-"

"It's not a _hunch_!" Stiles exclaimed while slapping at his steering wheel. "It's a pattern. Mysterious new girl comes to town out of the blue and suddenly the animals are going crazy? Come _on,_ dude."

"Have you always been this paranoid or am I just noticing it now?"

"It's not paranoia if I'm right. Listen, we'll just drive by Deaton's and if her truck's in the lot then we'll stop. Okay?"

Scott shook his head incredulously at Stiles' persistence. "No dude, not okay."

"Well you're not the one who's driving," Stiles shrugged in response. "So too bad."

…

After making plans with Kyle to transfer schools ("I don't understand why I can't just take classes online." "Because I know you Niki, and you won't leave your bed for days if I let you do that." "I don't have a bed. I have a cot." "You're _seriously_ making me question whether or not I should let you stay." "So you'll send the papers, then?") Nikita entered the clinic with a frown. A police car was parked outside, a _sheriff's_ car, and while eavesdropping wasn't something she normally did her curiosity got the best of her.

Leaning against the wall half-separating Deaton's foyer and examination room, she tucked a lock of hair and steadied her breathing. _Focus_, she thought. When Nikita's irises turned silver from hazel she could hear the conversation going on in the other room.

"…At first I thought it was the result of some sick individual acting on a particularly violent impulse. But that was before I got a closer look." She heard a faint click, like a door had been opened, before Deaton's voice continued. "They did it to themselves."

_Who_ did _what_ to themselves? Nikita peeked around the corner with a crinkled brow only for her expression to go slack with shock. Inhuman silver eyes saw every drop of blood, dangling entrails, and exposed bone with grotesque clarity. Her stomach churned. She immediately fled the scene.

"They did it to themselves," he'd said. Just like the crows. But _why_? These were animals- they were driven by the instinct to _live_! Why would they kill themselves? _Why_?

Nikita bent over at the waist and retched. Stumbling blindly toward her truck, her hands grabbed for anything she could use to hold herself up. Every time she blinked she could see the animals' bodies; mangled, bloody, and lifeless.

"_They did it to themselves."_

She gagged again. Her right hand gripped the truck's wing mirror with all of its might, and the rusted edges dug into her palm. The pain was sharp but Nikita couldn't let go without getting a face full of blacktop. She was too weak to stand and too distraught to find a place to sit. And so she all-but hung there, spitting up what little food she had swiped from Deaton's fridge.

That was how Scott and Stiles found her.

The lycaon jumped out of the car before it had even come to a full stop. "Oh my god!" Scott exclaimed, approaching Nikita cautiously. He could tell by the truck beside her (which had a fair sized on its hood) this was the girl Stiles was convinced had something to do with the alpha pack. Which seemed ridiculous what with her currently being so… indisposed. "Are you alright?"

"Dude," Stiles interjected upon slamming his driver's side door shut, "obviously not." He stomped toward Nikita with a pinched expression. Thinking it was an act, Stiles opened his mouth to call her out- only to shiver in disgust when she retched once more.

Something landed on his Converse. Correction: something was _spewed_ onto his Converse.

"Ew!" Stiles yelped. Flailing a few steps back he said: "Oh, gross! There's bile on my shoe. There is _bile_ on my-"

Scott didn't really think about punching Stiles' shoulder, he just sort of did it. "Du-_ude_!" the lycaon admonished. "Don't be so insensitive."

"Ouch! Don't hit me- I'm already wounded here! Oh my god. She's gagging again. I'm going to be sick-"

"If you don't shut up right now," Nikita panted as her face flushed with both mortification and anger, "I'll aim higher than your _foot_!"

It was kind of funny the way his face paled. Shaking off his grin, Scott leant beside Nikita with his signature I'm-a-concerned-puppy-dog-love-me-forever expression and Stiles rolled his eyes. This girl just threatened him with projectile vomit and Scott was going to comfort her? _Please_.

Laying a hand on her back (and being sure a few of his fingers touched the exposed skin at the nape of Nikita's neck) Scott said: "Just ignore him. It's what I do."

He then focused on Nikita's skin and the way it felt beneath his fingertips. Both he and Stiles expected the veins on the back of his to turn gray- the way they normally do when wolfing away somebody's pain- but instead they seemed to _glow_. It looked as if mercury was running through Scott's bloodstream, and it kind of freaked him out.

Stiles didn't look so paranoid anymore.

"H-how are you feeling?" Scott stuttered while helping Nikita stand upright.

She grimaced but said, "Better, actually. Thanks."

Figuring she was already beyond the point of saving face, Nikita reached into the bed of her truck and produced a lukewarm half empty bottle of water. She sipped, swigged, and spat into the nearest bush before outright facing the do-gooders for the first time.

At the sight of Stiles her heart rate doubled, and Scott _strongly_ suspected it was not because of his friend's good looks.

Nikita had always been inclined to run from problems. Her body was always set to Flight Mode instead of Fight. Under normal circumstances, she could live with the cowardice. But this was her third run-in with this boy, and there were enough detectives who hung around Kyle's bar for her to know what that meant. Once is an incident, twice is coincidence, and thrice a pattern. And this pattern suggested she needed to fight.

"Stiles!"

When the boy from last night cringed and turned toward Deaton's clinic Nikita couldn't help but assume that's what he was called. _Stiles_, she mused. _What a stupid name_. Twisting expectantly toward the office's entrance Nikita's brow crinkled at the sight of a police. If this Stiles was on a first name basis with this town's sheriff then that couldn't be a good thing, right?

"Hey dad." Stiles' voice faltered as he stepped in between his father and Nikita.

_Dad?_ Thought Nikita. She hadn't pegged Stiles for an officer's son. And what was he doing, anyway? Blocking her from view. It was almost as if… Was he protecting his father from _her_?

_What the hell was going on?_

Not for the first time, Nikita considered hightailing it back to Seattle.

"What are you doing here?" asked the sheriff as he hedged closer.

"Just dropping Scott off at work," Stiles answered with a nervous tick of his shoulder. "Here. At the clinic. Where he works."

The sheriff chuckled lightly and scratched at his chin. "Right," he said. "I got that. Hello Scott."

"Afternoon, Sheriff," the boy who helped Nikita greeted.

_Okay_, she thought. _So _his_ name is Scott_. Scott and Stiles. They made a strange duo. One was kind and helpful and the other showed up at all of the wrong times.

"And who's this?" Nikita froze when she caught the sheriff's eye. Fight or flight, fight or flight, fight or- "I'm the sheriff around here. You can call me Mr. Stilinski."

Her first thought was: Who the hell names their kid _Stiles Stilinski_?

"Nikita," she introduced while pushing through the barrier Scott and Stiles had created. Extending a hand the girl continued, "I'm new to town-"

"Deaton's goddaughter, right?" Mr. Stilinski interrupted while shaking her hand.

"Yeah," Nikita agreed, thinking it was a good cover.

From behind her Scott and Stiles were exchanging bewildered glances. They trusted Deaton- okay, _Scott_ trusted Deaton whereas Stiles thought he was inexplicably cryptic and weird- which meant they should trust Nikita by proxy.

Right?

"Well, I'll be looking into your parents' case," the sheriff said. And despite the fact his voice was hush-hush Scott was still able to overhear. "And let you know if anything pops up."

Nikita agreed once more, not knowing why Deaton wanted to have their missing person's report looked at but trusting him anyway. For all she knew they could end up with a new lead because of it.

"Thank you, sir." Nikita turned then and nodded curtly to the boys behind her. "Scott, Stiles."

They were marginally impressed with the way she made their names sound like a threat.

"_Nikita_," Stiles sneered. While he didn't sound nearly as intimidating, his chest puffed out with pride.

The sheriff simply shook his head, knowing it was best if he _didn't_ know.

* * *

Nikita hedged into Deaton's office with a grimace on her face. Keeping her back to the kennel she approached the man with caution. Unbeknownst to either of them Scott was eavesdropping from outside, where Stiles and his father were currently bickering about deer-related-accident statistics.

"Is this my fault?" Nikita asked.

Deaton frowned, said: "There are many factors at play here."

"That wasn't a definitive answer."

"No." The veterinarian ran a hand down his face and turned his back to the anguished teen. "It wasn't."

Scott could even hear Nikita's sniffling as she cried.


	4. Chapter 3

**Title**: Human

**Pairing**: Stiles/OC

**World**: AUish

**Full Summary**: Nikita Bronte has spent her whole life searching for answers. She doesn't know what she is, but it certainly isn't human. After coming across a note in her parents' old storage locker Nikita follows the trail to Beacon Hills. There she becomes entangled in the town's supernatural happenings, all the while trying to find herself. S3 AU

**Author's Note**: That fucking episode tho. Nobody touch me. Unless you're Allison Argent. Then please feel free. (On the reals: I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please be sure to review once you're finished reading.)

* * *

_"_I saw multitudes to every side of me; their howls were loud

While wheeling weights, they used their chests to push.

They struck against each other; at that point,"

-Dante, Inferno

* * *

**Chapter Three**

_Of Omens and Men_

Readying for school proved to be a difficult task for Nikita Bronte come the following Monday. It wasn't much of a surprise being as the veterinary's bathroom was something that could be found in say a _truck stop_, albeit kept much cleaner.

But still… difficult.

It didn't help that Nikita knew she would be walking directly into the lion's den. Scott, according to Deaton, was in junior year as well. Which didn't seem so bad until Nikita realized Scott being in her grade meant _Stiles_- god that couldn't be his actual name could it?- was too. Deaton may have reassured her neither boy was a threat, but her wariness prevailed.

It was obvious the sheriff's son didn't trust her. In retrospect she supposed that was to be expected. She had nearly killed him, for one thing. And for her to turn up just as crows began to throw themselves against his classroom window? Comparatively, Nikita had more reason to suspect herself than Stiles.

Heaving a sigh, she inspected her appearance one final time in her truck's rearview mirror before hopping out. Nikita knew if she preened for too long she would never work up the nerve to face Beacon Hills High School, and Kyle was sure to put some weird voodoo on her if she skipped the first day what with her already being a week behind.

"Here goes nothing."

The school's main office was easy to find. Just to the left of the entryway marked by a sign which proclaimed it to be 'a gift from the graduating class of 2007'. Beacon Hills High looked just like her old school. Maybe a little bigger, but the same more or less. It was silly for Nikita to be so surprised, but she had expected something… _more_. Something to match the bizarre happenings she read up on over the weekend. (Seriously, this town had more skeletons in its closet than anything she had ever seen. Mountain lions, serial killers, grave robberies, and now suicidal animals? Frea_ky_.) But no, things seemed average. Normal. Like it hadn't been only a week ago that a flock of crows attacked a second-story classroom which was, from the looks of things, already old news.

And the new news? Her, apparently.

Nikita was on the receiving end of all kinds of obscure stares while she made her way toward the main office. Some were curious, others leering, and even a few welcoming smiles were thrown her way. But no matter their intention, Nikita was thoroughly spooked. She had an average number of friends at home and although none of them were particularly close it wasn't as if she had been _antisocial_. It's just that, well, she had grown up in Seattle. Not exactly born and raised (or at least not to her knowledge) but her friends- _before_ they became her friends- had been familiar faces.

She knew only four people in Beacon Hills. One was Deaton, another the town's sheriff, a boy whom she'd vomited on who was the sheriff's son, and the friend of said boy. If things continued as they had, Nikita figured her chances of making friends were bleak.

After picking up her schedule, locker number/combination, and school map Nikita headed towards Mr. Yukimura's U.S. History class, only to come across a bulletin board and stop dead in her tracks.

She was familiar with Missing Persons flyers- Nikita's aunt insisted on reposting them every time rain soaked through her parents'- but she had never been filled with such… _dread_ at the sight of one. Nikita felt sick to her stomach, but this was worse than nausea. It was grief, terror, sickness- take your pick and she felt it.

Heather Płowy- seventeen, approximately 110 lbs, blonde, green eyes, last seen wearing a tank top and jeans- smiled cheerfully at everyone who passed her Missing's poster. She would forever be immortalized by her latest school picture, and by just one look Nikita knew this girl was dead. She _knew_ it.

That had been the last time she ever associated the word 'normal' with Beacon Hills.

When Stiles saw Nikita standing there, looking at Heather's missing person poster, he was overcome by an inexplicable rage. This girl- she popped up whenever there was trouble. Whenever there was death or destruction. Scott's boss may have vouched for her but dammit _this was no coincidence_. It couldn't be. And now here she was: admiring her handiwork.

So he seized Nikita by the arm; all short-fused and vengeful. Spun her around and pinned her against the cork board she had been standing before. Heather's eyes, which seemed to follow him Mona Lisa style, felt oddly disapproving.

He ignored it.

"What did you do to her?" Stiles demanded.

Eyes wide and fearful, Nikita met his gaze with trembling lips. He could feel her quickened pulse through her forearm, and shame burned through his chest- red hot and mortifying.

"Nothing," she said. Her eyes darted this way and that, searching for a way out. For any means of escape.

At the sound of her breathless voice Stiles' stomach twisted. But he fought against the guilt with an iron fist. This could be a trick. Fae had their glamour, Vampires compulsion. Nikita's (presumably)faux innocence could just be one of her powers. Maybe that was how she lured Heather away from the party.

_Heather_.

"I swear," he began to threaten, "if you hurt her-"

"I didn't!" Nikita insisted. "I didn't hurt _any_one."

It sounded flimsy even to her ears. Because, when it came down to it, Nikita didn't know if she was the cause of this. She couldn't see how she could be- didn't remember taking Heather Płowy- but the birds? The animals? It was likely she _had_ caused that.

"Listen," Nikita began hesitantly, "I don't know what's going on, and I don't know why it started when I came here. But I _swear_ I didn't kill your friend."

Stiles recoiled as if he'd been burned. "Kill?" he breathed. "Why did you say 'kill'? She's not dead she's just- Heather's _missing_. Not dead."

"Right," Nikita was quick to agree. "I'm sorry." The class bell rang overhead then, and she scurried away with downturn eyes. "I'm sorry."

And to her credit, she sounded it.

Stiles heaved a heavy sigh and ran his fingers through his hair, sending the chocolate tuft astray. Maybe Scott was right. He was being paranoid, overly suspicious, unfair to Nikita. Stiles knew he couldn't go on like this. But what was the right way to act? Boyd and Erica were being held captive by a pack of _alphas_, Heather was missing, and their only lead was Isaac whose memory was conveniently blank.

There was no upside to this situation. Only confusion. More questions nobody could answer. And Nikita's slip up? That only caused him more anxiety. Because while Stiles had worried Heather was hurt it never occurred to him she could be _dead_. The thought had been too horrifying- too terrible to entertain. But now it was all he could think about.

Luckily distraction came in the form of Allison and Lydia. Or, more accurately, the odd shaped bruises Isaac's rescuer left on their forearms. And so Stiles ducked into the classroom the girls had commandeered where he then waited for Scott and Derek to arrive.

* * *

"So how was your first day?"

"Aggravating."

Nikita sat in a crowded café, tucked in a corner between a bookshelf and window. Her dinner- a four course meal consisting of yogurt, plain muffin, browning apple, and a vanilla cakepop- sat beside her opened laptop abandoned and forgotten. She stared intently at her computer's screen, hunched over with candy-pink earbuds peaking out between locks of hair. She looked tired, Kyle assessed. Worn down. If this was what Beacon Hills could do to her surrogate niece in just a view days, Kyle didn't want to see what would happen after a few weeks.

But the older woman put on her Happy Face and said: "It can't be _that_ bad."

Nikita thought back to her overzealous History teacher and his attempts at pawning her off to his daughter. Stiles drama aside… "It is."

Fine, Kyle lamented, if Niki wanted to be a Debby Downer they may as well cut to the chase. "I asked around town about your little… animal problem." Nikita snorted and rolled her eyes at Kyle's delicacy. "Miss Abasi said what the crows did was an omen of great tragedy."

Miss Abasi, an elderly faith healer from Swahili, was perhaps the scariest woman Nikita had ever met. When she looked at you she _looked_ at you. Saw you for all that you were- the good, bad, and ugly. Miss Abasi called Nikita 'demon' upon their first meeting and advised Kyle to kill her before 'the problem got out of hand'.

"And did _Miss Abasi_ say I'm the one causing it?" Nikita sneered defensively.

She was surprised to see Kyle shake her head. "No. She said whatever was causing this was big-time hoodoo. Dark, nasty stuff."

"Like?"

Nikita's aunt shook her head once more. "Miss Abasi and I are working on it. Tonight we're going to contact her friends on the Other Side, see if they know anything about it."

"She's willing to help?" asked Nikita, her tone laden with surprise. "To pull out the big guns just like that?"

"So long as you stay in Beacon Hills," Kyle teased with a devious grin, "she'll do anything."

"Funny," Nikita deadpanned before worrying her bottom lip anxiously. "Are you sure you're okay doing this? The last time I suggested we hold a séance-"

"This is different," her aunt interrupted. "You could be in danger."

But Nikita was already in danger. She thought back to her mother- her mother's life on the run- and she frowned. Would that be her life? Dyeing her hair, being in town one week and in another state the next? And why- because of what she was? Nikita didn't even _know_ what she was.

"Hey," Kyle prompted softly, and her niece was pulled from her thoughts. "You alright?"

"Yeah," said Nikita with a bob of her head. "Fine. I'll call you in the morning, okay? Be careful tonight."

Kyle frowned and said: "You too."


End file.
